


Life Does Change

by kuwusowo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, GAY??, M/M, owo, pancakes x
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwusowo/pseuds/kuwusowo
Summary: Akira Kurusu returns to Tokyo after his parents kicked him out of their lives, pronounced dead to them both. Brokenhearted and suddenly engulfed with depression, Akira finds solace in a teenager he never really thought of before, only finding out that he--too--was similar to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yikes so hello  
> this is shuake and it's all just gay  
> gay and sad  
> i hope u enjoy x

Throughout the duration of his stay in Tokyo, Akira grew to learn one thing; life simply wasn’t fair. It’s cliché, and he knew it, but it was true. Unsettling, really. Life, metaphorically, was the monster your fairytales feared of. Love, supposedly, was the hero, slaying such a beast with clean cuts, resulting with the damsel in his arms. Happiness would be the wizard that’d send the hero off, aiding him with equipment he needed to relive and make every fantasy a reality. Everything else were merely obstacles or villagers, giving insight as to where this princess was and how he could get to her.

So who would the damsel in distress be?

Funnily enough, that would be our protagonist.

Although his probation had come to a close, as well as his chaotic time as a Phantom Thief, Akira found himself stuck on the train travelling back to Yongen-Jaya. He was supposed to be at home, spending time with his mother and father while they peppered him with kisses, reminding him that he was still their little boy. Their son. Their _everything_.

Unfortunately, and I must iterate this further, life isn’t fair.

The visions Akira imagined were nothing _but_ visions. Pictures that he created himself rather than captured on camera, convincing himself that they were real--that it would be real.

He was supposed to walk into his family home, calling out to them. _“I’m home,”_ he’d say, dropping his bag by his side while kicking his shoes off. Morgana would then jump out and wave his tail in the air, greeting his parents as they rush over to him with beaming expressions. His mother loved cats, so he knew she’d be more than happy to accept him into their lives. They’ll ask him how he is, how he was through it all. He’ll tell them everything, minus the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and that everything was okay. That _he_ was okay. They might sob, but that’s up to them. It’d make things more sappier and emotional, which was something he craved for on his return, but that was their call.

Everything would be okay then.

Obviously, though, that didn’t _exactly_ work out.

The reality of it all was something more traumatic. He returned, knocking on the door with a soft smile on his face, preparing himself for the potential grins that would be given by his family. He was ready—excited—to finally return and come back to the Kurusu household.

His mother was the one who opened up the door, tired eyes glancing up and down the teenager. Already, he felt off. It was like she was analysing him, figuring him out; something you’d probably do to someone who you’ve first met. _Are they the sort of person I’d get along with?_ _Where did they get that jacket? Have I met them before?_ Questions like that would probably race through your mind as you bopped your head up and down in rhythm to their chatter.

However, with his mother, it wasn’t that simple.

“So,” monotone words would slip out of chapped lips as she leaned against the doorframe. She didn’t step to the side to let him in, and she didn’t even dare try to embrace him.

The smile had faltered at this point, Akira’s mouth thin.

“You really did come back.”

Once his mother pointed out the fact, he shifted in his place, foot kicking at the ground. It could be connoted that he was doing it out of frustration, yet he was merely waiting for _something_ to go wrong. I mean, clearly, something bad was going to happen to him. It shouldn’t have taken this long to reunite.

Akira chose to respond through actions, hence why he simply nodded his mop-covered head. Anxiety started to course through his tired veins, the boy feeling his heart slowly speed up out of nerves. _What was happening?_ He had questioned himself, such rhetorical thoughts evident in the subtle raise of his brow.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Akira ended up replying to her observation. None of this was making sense. Just what was she getting at? Surely, he figured, she was messing around. His mom was always one for joking around, contrasting with his serious, down-to-earth father. It was a trait he picked up on for himself, now being a master of puns and little jokes that would either make his friends groan from annoyance or laugh half-heartedly.

His mother scoffed. He didn’t say anything funny.

“Your father and I had a chat about you once you left,” she reflected on the past, scowling almost as she stared him down. Her eyes pierced daggers into his beating heart, draining colour from his pale face, furthering the porcelain saturation. Akira would bite his lip, stopping the soft trembling that he didn’t wish his mother to latch onto with her demeaning eyes, yet the pitiless smile on her face proved that she already saw. “Considering you had brought dishonour upon our family, we believe that it isn’t fair for you to continue living with us.”

Akira stared at her, mouth parting. Then, it curved into a similar scowl, brows furrowed to show the disbelief.

“What are you saying--”

“You’ve fucked our lives up,” her tone was suddenly shifted into one of anger, a change that even Akira wasn’t used to. A shiver begun to reach up his spine, yet he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t expose his vulnerability now - that would simply be pathetic. “You’ve… ruined us. _Ruined us!_ They blame _us_ for what you got yourself into; they say that we’re the one who… cursed you with your violence. Our neighbours see us as disgusting, terrible humans…” As she spoke, Akira noticed her voice tremble tremendously, her eyes glistening beneath the sun’s dulling light as she continued to blame her only son. Not only was it heartbreaking to hear that _he_ was the reason for their family’s downfall, but it was heartbreaking to see his mom on the verge of crying. It was a sight that would tear any child’s heart into pieces.

No matter the situation.

Throughout the torment, Akira remained silent. He couldn’t bring himself up to voice out his concerns; to argue against his guardian against the lies she was spewing. _It wasn’t my fault!_ He wanted to scream out, raking his hands through his floppy hair as he tried to reason with her. _I would never, never, hurt a soul. Please, please believe me._ But he didn’t. He wish he had, though.

**_Yongen-Jaya. This is, Yongen-Jaya._ **

The sudden announcement from the train’s speaker dragged Akira back to reality, not allowing him to torture himself through his sudden experience. His lips parted, a little surprised at just how _quick_ the journey seemed to be, yet they closed in on themselves. Although he had returned, he was stumped.

Just what was he supposed to say to everyone? _“No, my parents were so proud of me, they decided to send me away on holiday for the rest of my school life. And my work life. And, well, just life in general.”_ That re-evaluation doesn’t seem to have a nice ring to it, Akira decided as he boarded off the train. Perhaps he should just keep quiet about it and make it seem like he decided to stay.

That seemed like a more reasonable idea. A flutter in his saddened heart agreed.

“Hey,” Morgana’s head poked out of his bag, possibly after a grief-worthy nap, “what are we going to do? Do you think the chief will let us stay in the attic again?”

“That…” Akira begun quietly as he walked, carrying the black-and-white feline beneath his arm as he wandered around mindlessly. Truthfully, he… he hadn’t thought about that. Really, he assumed that Sojiro would welcome him back with open arms, brewing a basic blend for the boy while giving him a plate of his curry. He would’ve listened to him and given him a choice of what to do, only for him to then decide what _Akira_ wanted to do.

Daydreams seemed to be getting the best of him, however, for this wasn’t fantasy. This was reality.

Morgana hissed with panic, eyes shooting wide open, “You mean you hadn’t thought about it?!”

“I’m sure he will,” Akira attempted to reassure his friend and pet, fingers clutching onto the bag that hung low beside him, “for a day or so.”

He could hear the soft sigh coming from Morgana, the gentle meow conveying obvious nervousness. Perhaps he didn’t believe that things would go well for the both of them, resulting in the two being homeless. To be frank, Akira understood. Although Sojiro was an excellent guardian over the course of the year, the chances of him allowing the boy to stay sheltered in his café were slim; despite that, he doubt it’d be due to his social status. Really, it might be due to the hospitality as a whole, the old man probably suggesting that it wouldn’t be great living conditions if he stayed in the attic all the time. Although true, Akira couldn’t care. He just wanted somewhere to stay.

“I suppose asking him wouldn’t hurt,” Morgana gave in reluctantly, tilting his nose towards the lanky male as they bopped along the crossing, “but I don’t think imposing on him would be such a good idea. We should try and find an apartment or something.”

Akira stayed silent once again. He was right, but the teenager wasn’t sure how he’d go about it. After all, he wasn’t able to earn funds from his thievery, for the departure of the devious group happened a few months ago. Christmas Eve, to be exact. He could work, but he wouldn’t be able to rack up enough money to rent out a place, considering he’s still a student. And there was no way _in hell_ his parents would send him a beginning allowance to, at least, get him somewhere safe.

As of now, he was dead to them. A useless, worthless corpse. Fair enough.

Almost as if God was watching them and wished to add some natural effects into this story, a sudden storm begun to brew above them, cascading heavy downpours of His tears. A shocked _mrow!_ was heard from behind him, Morgana quickly ducking his head down and into the inner depths of his bag, hissing for Akira to get to Leblanc quicker as the rain came down harder and more violent.

Mimicking such a response from the cat himself, Akira almost hissed at the uncomfortable feeling of soaked clothing as he began to pick up the pace, eventually leading into a run as he dived for some sort of shelter. Unfortunately, for the former thieves, there wasn’t any decent hatched roofs that they could hide beneath that was before Leblanc itself, so they had to make do until they did, indeed, get there.

But once they did, Akira didn’t hesitate to let himself in. He was a customer now. And the sign said it was open.

 

* * *

 

“So, uh, let me get this straight,” Sojiro begun after the strange return of Akira, his thumb and forefinger toying with the little flick at the end of his beard, “your parents disowned you, mostly due to how the probation affected your name, but also how you’re still a ‘criminal’ back home? And because of this, you want to know if you can stay here for a while longer until you get yourself sorted?” The barista concluded rhetorically, more or less repeating the facts to himself so he can let the thought settle. Regardless, Akira nodded melancholy, a towel clutching onto his shoulders in an attempt to dry him off.

“That sucks, kid,” Sojiro commented, his hand pulling itself away from his chin and settling on his hip, “I… I’m not entirely sure what I can do to help, but if a simple act such as letting you stay aids you in some way, then so be it. Feel free to stay for as long as you can, but make sure that you _are_ looking for a place in the meantime. I can offer you the hospitality of this building, but I’m not sure how long I can keep at it.”

Akira beamed gallantly, a chirpy and relieved smile sketching across his canvas as he sighed heavenly. A heavy boulder was lifted from his shoulders and tossed aside, allowing both him and Morgana to rest easy tonight and begin work tomorrow.

“Thank you. Really.” Akira would say, his fingers relaxing over his arm as he exhaled deeply. Sincerely, he was overjoyed knowing that he had one adult to turn to. He supposed Sae would’ve done something to help out, but she already had a lot on her plate, and she already went through _so much_ just to get him out of juvenile. Plus, she was Makoto’s sister. He couldn’t ask for such a thing.

“Do your friends know about your situation?” Sojiro’s voice was heard over the gentle clinging and clanging of ceramics, alerting the teenager calmly. Akira’s lips wavered slightly, unsure as to whether or not to spill the beans, yet it seemed that the Boss understood immediately. With a nod, Sojiro clarified that he didn’t need to say anything else, for he knew.

Moments of peace begun to circle around the two, the steamy brew of hot coffee filling Akira’s senses. In a way, the caffeinated drink soothed the tiredness within; not only was he exhausted from the to-and-back journey, but he was mentally drained. Today was a lot, he told himself as he sipped at his drink, for so much had happened. He lost two important things in his life, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d get it back.

He took another swig from his mug, not hearing the soft chime from the door beside him. Akira ignored the sudden change in atmosphere, his head lost in the storm above him as his naive mindset ran further and further into the natural disaster. Things were tense. Complicated, even. Although he felt like he was getting back on his feet just a few minutes ago, he started to realise that it wouldn’t be like this forever. He couldn’t just stay around in Leblanc’s attic for the rest of his school life.

He needed to get out of there as soon as possible, but considering how little he’d be getting financially--

“Kurusu?”

A little alarmed at the familiarity of the voice, Akira’s floppy hair dragged itself through the air as he bore his eyes into the crimson’s of a tall, lanky brunet. He was wearing a tan-coloured coat and black pants, noir gloves holding a silver briefcase close to his side. As his orbs rolled upwards again, he examined the way his dainty fingers pushed back a loose strand of hair, the failure of getting the mop out of his face failing once it fell back again.

The young male smiled, eyelids closing as he gifted the boy a smile. A smile identical to what he fakes his fans with on television.

“My, this _is_ a surprise.” Akechi said, Akira a little bewildered to see him standing there, “I never expected to see you return so soon. Perhaps you can fill me in while I relax myself with a cup of coffee.”

He took a seat right next to him, placing his bag down beside the stool, while his fingers intertwined with one another.

“If you don’t mind, of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh dear,” Akechi would begin once Akira had finished his vague explanation, avoiding certain bits of the gross interaction. Analysing the expression that bore the detective’s face, he spotted the attempts of sympathy through his frown, his eyes unable to sync with the downfall of lips quick enough. It was a subtle detail, a piece of the puzzle that would only be found upon close inspection, yet Akira knew he’d never be able to finish the picture with only black and white.

He was staring for too long, he realised, as he quickly shot up to meet Akechi’s eyes, the lack of change in face possibly indicating that he hadn’t noticed. Akira didn’t want the detective to suspect that he was checking him out, because that simply wasn’t the case. You could say that he was captivated by him, for the former thief wouldn’t disagree with you; it wasn’t due to admiration, though. Really, he was interested in the reasons as to  _ why _ Akechi holds a mask close to his face, hiding the ‘real him’ behind doors. It was mysterious, and curiosity would only grow stronger whenever they spoke to one another. ‘Flavoured with enigma’ would be a simple description Akira would give to him, adding onto the ‘disgusting taste’ that his friends would suggest. 

“I apologise that this has happened to you,” Akechi would thread sadness through his words as he sighed to himself, a single digit tracing the brim of his coffee cup, perhaps urging his brain to think of more to say, “it wasn’t fair of them.”

“It’s understandable,” Akira would respond, flirting with his own brew by kissing the cup gently, indulging in the caffeine. “Nobody back there knows about what happened.” 

“I suppose,” Akechi placed his hand lightly over his forearm after he tucked a strand of brown behind his ear. It glistened slightly beneath the dull light, the storm outside fighting the brightness of the café. Akira would watch the soft whiteness radiate from that single flock before sighing to himself. 

There was nothing more to say. Nothing more to do. 

“I’m heading up,” he’d announce as he pushed himself back from the counter, the stool scraping deviously against the wooden floor. He felt eyes watch him gallantly, trying to peel him away from such the idea yet failed. The raven-haired boy greeted the detective a simple ‘see you later’, while reassuring Sojiro that he ‘didn’t want any curry tonight, but thank you.’ 

Reluctantly, Akechi stood up, clearing his throat. “Kurusu,” Akira would flip his head around, humming out a response. “Let’s hang out sometime.” 

Akira stared. “Sorry?” 

“I believe we need to… catch up.” There was a strain in his voice as he came up with the idea, the soft swirl that was reminiscent in his orbs fading away quickly, drowning in the pool of darkness that had succumbed his vision. A second passed and he chuckled, the taller male rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “Actually, on second thought--”

“Sure,” Akira interrupted before Akechi reevaluated his idea, smiling gently at the parted mouth of the falsely-acclaimed detective, “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Slowly, Akechi mirrored the smile. “How about… hm, later this week? I’m assuming that you need to settle back into Tokyo.” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

“I should be free on Sunday, if that works for you.” 

“Perfect.”

“Then it’s settled,” Akechi fumbled with his noir tie, loosening it slightly. Too tight, Akira looked into Akechi’s mind as he watched, ignoring the explicit revealing of his neck and collarbone. It was getting close to summer, the scorching season only being two months way, so he must be a little hot. Perhaps he wished to simply remove the white shirt, relishing in the gentle, cool air that would simply trace fingertips across his torso. Relieving, it would be.

The former thief scrunched his nose up slightly. Vile thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking them. 

The beaming male gracefully placed a couple hundred yen onto the counter before quickly finishing off his order, only to retrieve his silver case from the floor. He glanced at the boy in front of him, spotting his stone-cold greys hardening over his figure, before offering him another smile.

This time, it wasn’t as fake. 

“I look forward to it then,” Akechi politely mentioned, preparing himself for the short-lived departure of LeBlanc, ignoring the sounds from behind the counter as Sojiro was clearing up. 

Akira smirked and shuffled in his place. “As am I.”

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t even been a fully 24-hours since Akira returned to Tokyo, and he was already squashed in the booth of LeBlanc by his friends. Once the news had spread like wildfire, burning away the sadness that each member had for his destined departure, the small building was invaded by the Phantom Thieves… or, what  _ was _ the Phantom Thieves. 

“Dude,” Ryuji would be the first to speak once Morgana explained the circumstances, allowing Akira to keep quiet and wallow in some form of pity. “That’s effed up.”

The rest of the group seemed to agree, each adding their own comment regarding the situation, while also apologising to Akira that this had to happen to  _ him.  _ Ryuji even added the implication that this was all Shido’s fault--which he wasn’t exactly wrong--only fueling to the in-depth anger the delinquent had for the man. Regardless, no matter how negatively he felt towards the ex-politician, there was nothing they could do. Everything that had been done was done; everything that they could do was accomplished. 

Now, the leader must pay the price. 

“I wish we still had our Personas,” Ann would sigh as she fiddled with her silver flocks, blue orbs eyeing the ends, “we would’ve been able to change his parent’s hearts--” 

“Even if we did,” Akira would awaken from his mental nap, grabbing the attention of everyone there, “I wouldn’t allow it.” 

Makoto nodded, sympathising with him. “Although they’re terrible, terrible people, they are his parents. It wouldn’t feel right.” 

“But, agh, they don’t have the right to treat their kid like shit!” Ryuji exclaimed, throwing his arm in the direction of Akira almost accusingly. The amount of guts Akira had, however, prevented him from flinching slightly, fingers almost slapping the sadness from him. Strangely enough, part of him wished that the delinquent did hit him; perhaps that would take his mind off things for the time being. 

He despised only being stuck in one place, despite being everywhere at once. 

“Ryuji, even if we had the consent from Akira himself,” Yusuke would calmly intrude, shaking his head as he unknowingly disagreed with Makoto and Akira and sided with Ryuji for once, “we are unable to do anything. Our personas are no longer with us, as well as the Metaverse being no more. I suppose the word we could use to describe ourselves is ‘hopeless’.” 

Everyone frowned, because it was true. 

“Oh, Akira-kun,” Haru would place her hand on the boys arm, gently rubbing it with soothing intentions as her brown eyes met with his solemn greys. Just from the look, the young lady could see the horrifying depression that was beginning to drown him; whirlpools of nothing but self-hatred and confusion terrorised the edges of his personality, teasing the intention of destroying it completely. And yet, he’d smile. He didn’t wish to inflict anything upon his friends. 

Haru's smile was small. He was always a quiet one. 

“We will always be here if you need help,” the daughter of Okumura quietly offered, the faces of his gang invading his vision as they grinned. Futaba would place her hands on her hips as if she were the hero, a cheeky chuckle slipping out of her lips as she proposed herself as a pillar for him to lean on. Ann would twirl her hair between her fingers as she softly glanced over, nodding alongside the rest who chimed in with the girl. 

“We’ve got your back, man!” Ryuji would cheer him on, throwing his arm around his best friend while ruffling his noir flocks harshly. Although it hurt a little bit, it still forced a heartfelt laugh to come out of the chapped lips out of the boy. 

Although he was glad to have a group of people surrounding him, he still felt so alone. 

“I don’t think we should continue wallowing in pity for long,” Makoto chirped, glancing over at the barista, seen smoking a cigarette. “Sakura-san? Is it possible if we could have the café for today?” 

The man smiled, stroking his beard in thought before coming down to a--relatively quick--conclusion. “Sure thing; I don’t think the store will be busy, anyway.” 

“Thank you very much,” the brunette would politely say before standing up, softly pulling Ann and Ryuji up from their seats, ignoring the  _ what the hell? _ s and the antagonised groans from the teenagers, “I need you both to pick up some snacks from the grocery store.”

“Uh, sure thing,” Ryuji would nod his head, only to halt it with a confused scratch to the back of his neck, “but… what for?”

“Really?” Ann would fold her arms in a disapproving manner, rolling her eyes at the visual bewilderment evident on the short-blonds face, “We’re going to celebrate Akira returning, of course!” 

“Oh, right!” The boy would grin immediately, chestnuts meeting with soft greys, the shorter male noticing that Akira was bearing widened orbs, “ _ That _ makes sense. Gotta make the best out of the worst, after all!” 

Parted lips would remain still for a moment, before they closed in on themselves. Akira hummed amusingly, internally wondering as to how he was able to find such a diverse group of teenagers that cared for him so much. He wanted to know what he had done to earn their indestructible trust, the hardness of such an abstract force strong enough to break almost anything that dared cross it. He was a plain boy, after all. He wasn’t strange, but he wasn’t normal either. 

Mentally scraping his fingers through his head, racking through his mind and toying with the tangled thoughts, Akira sighed to himself. 

Perhaps there are just things you weren’t meant to have explained to you.

 

The improvised party went rather well, if Akira was to analyse it for himself. Plates and plastic cups were left lingering throughout the café, Sojiro--of course--making the young boy clear up once he left to take Futaba home, while the rest of his friends wished him both good luck and temporary farewells. Ann mentioned seeing him in class next week, for he would be starting his time at Shujin Academy once again starting Monday. Luckily, or unluckily perhaps, it was Wednesday, allowing him approximately 4 days and nights to prepare himself. 

Although, there was very little for him to get ready for. 

“How are you feeling now?” A soft mew would begin once the small cat spat a bit of trash into the black bag, twirling his tail around himself as he looked up at his friend and caretaker. “You seemed to have cheered up since everyone came to visit.” 

“I guess,” Akira would agree as he shoved an empty packet of chips into the growing, plastic bin bag, “It was nice to seem them after everything went downhill.” 

“Good!” Morgana purred, raising himself up from the table before hopping down onto the ground, only to continue his short round of picking up rubbish and either handing them to Akira or dropping them into the bag itself. The male would smile, leaning the trash bag by a booth before swooping the black-and-white cat in his arms. A scowl would be heard, yet the boy didn’t mind. Akira knew it was out of mere confusion, rather than hostility. 

“Get some rest,” the teenager would explain as he started to climb up the stairs, the warmness from Morgana’s fur calming him down a little bit. 

Truth be told, Akira actually enjoyed cuddling Morgana. It took a lot of time and trust to actually engage in it, but the pair agreed that--as pet and caretaker--it would be okay. Plus, Morgana was always the one that would be hugged a lot, Haru and Futaba especially craving the cat’s attention. Akira would find himself more relaxed whenever Morgana was resting on either his chest or lap, soft purrs of contentment soothing his nerves and resting his unnoticeable anxiety. It was nice.

Akira adored cats. 

“Huh?” Morgana would question, his… brow, let’s say, raising in surprise, “Are you sure? Will you be fine tidying up on your own?” 

“I’ll be okay,” Akira reassured the feline, patting his head delicately, “it won’t take me too long, anyway.” 

Morgana frowned, before sighing. “Make sure to get some rest soon. You must be tired.” 

Akira chuckled, waving off the thought. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.” 

After tucking in his friend and making sure he was asleep, Akira would proceed to make his way down into the heart of LeBlanc, continuing with the chores that Sojiro had  _ so kindly _ inflicted on him. Really, though, he didn’t mind. It made him feel more needed, made him feel like a son doing things for his father. 

Such a devious thought. Sojiro didn’t look at him like a son. 

With an empty cup in his hand, the sudden chime of the bell alerted him greatly, forcing the alarmed kid to stare at the intruder. However, harsh looks faded as he was surprised with the familiar face of Goro Akechi, the ace detective. 

And, mimicking that look of surprise, Akechi glanced around the room. 

“Did… something happen?” Akechi would question in a teasing manner, only to awkwardly chuckle at his own question. Akira would look at him for a few seconds, curiosity peaking as he wondered as to  _ why  _ he was there. In Leblanc. It was closing hours; surely he knew that. 

He stole a look towards the chestnut-coloured door, only to see that he was staring at the ‘CLOSED’ sign through the grimaces of the window. Sojiro must’ve forgot to flip the wooden plank, he concluded to himself as he quickly slid by the guest and twisted it around, informing the public that they were--properly--closed for the night. 

“A surprise get together, I would say,” Akira explained as he stepped back into the café, resuming his duty of cleaning up the store for the morning. “Want a coffee?” 

“If that’s no trouble.” 

“Give me a second.” 

The boy would, once again, place the bag down before heading behind the counter, slipping a forest-green apron over his head and tied it behind his back. He would feel the stare of Akechi bear into him, causing the ravenhead to tilt his head upwards and meet with it. The detective widened his eyes, only to avert his gaze. 

“Would you like some help?” 

“It’s coffee. I’ll be fine--” 

“I mean with the cleaning.” 

“Oh,” Akira dumbfoundedly created an ‘o’ shape on his face, scanning the room with empty eyes. His line of sight was filled with nothing but trash, yet it wasn’t anything that the former-Phantom Thief couldn’t handle. Realistically, he would be able to get the room spotless in about an hour or two, depending on how his energy would hold up. On the other hand, if Akechi  _ were _ to help…

“If that’s no trouble,” Akira stole Akechi’s line, a soft smile teasing his lips as he connected with his crimson’s once again. The brunet stared back, only to respond with the mirroring of his curved line, as well as the soft padding of shoes against wooden flooring as he wandered towards the trash bag. Gentle sounds of cardboard and paper being shoved into the plastic container filled the room, such melodies joining with the quiet brewing of the house blend. The two boys were silent as they went about their business, yet there seemed to be a lack of awkwardness surrounding them. 

It was like it was normal. Akira appreciated that, yet he wondered as to why it felt like that. 

“What was the celebration, if I do intrude?” Akechi would ask from the corner of the room, not looking at the other figure in the room. 

Akira responded blankly, fingertips tapping against the smooth counter. “My return.”

“I see,” His calm voice would hum a little, eyes closing to give off that sweet, innocent persona, “I suppose it’s best to make things better than they seem.” 

“Funny. They said that too.” 

“We have the same mindset, then.” 

_ Not at all _ , Akira would think to himself as he withheld a response, the awkwardness lingering in the air almost suffocating. Before, it was nice and peaceful--normal, if I had to reuse the word--but it wasn’t toxic. It was like Akechi was  _ trying _ to engage in a conversation, trying to rid the air of the poison that slowly crept in. 

Of course, Akira didn’t really mind. He enjoyed speaking with the TV star, despite what had went on between the two in the past. Akechi may despise himself, may regret what he had done to the Phantom Thieves; to him; to everyone. However, that didn’t change the positive outlook the boy  _ had _ for the brunet. 

There was just something about him…

The strong aroma from the coffee brought him back to reality for a moment, taking him away from his thoughts as he stared at the brown substance that simply ached to meet with its partner. Swiftly, and just as he was taught from his guardian, he lifted the saucer up and proceeded to pour it into the white, pristine cup, the aesthetic sounding of the brew soothing him further. Although blank, there was almost a splash of colour making its mark on the porcelain skin, crafting it’s newly-made doll for those who so desired it. A perfect character, something that Akira would never be, made to impress it’s master and earn something fulfilling. 

Akira wondered what that thing was as the scraping of the cup filled in the empty spaces, the sound grasping Akechi’s attention. The male smiled at the young barista. He was being polite, Akira knew, yet there was a little flutter in his stomach. He mistaken it for the ache of starvation at first but it was silent and he wasn’t craving food. Pondering for a moment before shrugging it off internally, he would return the mannerism with a soft curve of his own, before removing the apron and becoming a homeless student once more.  

The two would join in harmony as they quietly and efficiently continued with Akira’s chore. Cleaning up became quick work, the rustling of bags and scrunching of cardboard and plastic overwhelming the pair as they spoke very little. 

That same tension was in the air, even though they both were so busy with their task at hand. It was inconsistent. It was aggravating. 

 

“Thanks,” Akira would express his gratitude once the hour’s work came to a close, the brunet handing him the relatively-large carrier that held nothing  _ but  _ trash. A joke could’ve been shared if they were close, but the bond they shared was mere rivalry. Of course, things could change if they desired to make a difference, but the former thief had doubts about that coming true. Akechi had his own passions, even if they were vile and crude, and Akira had his own. 

“It was no problem,” Akechi would respond with a sweet tone, his eyes trying to replicate the cutesy glow that a prince would have. Unfortunately, for him, they were hollow. Empty. Nothing swirled within them, and Akira was gutted to see just how much this falsely-acclaimed detective was  _ trying _ to woo him over like he did to the public. Manipulative, or just a force of habit? Akira didn’t know. 

Extending a hand towards the stools by the front, Akira would guide the guest to his--now cold and untouched--cup of coffee, wandering behind the counter to lean against. He’d watch the reddened orbs graze over his brew, a tiny frown pulling at his lips as he just stared into the stillness of the drink. Before, it was burning and fragrant. Full of life. But now, for it had been abandoned, it was ugly and less appealing. 

“I’ll make you another,” Akira offered, retrieving the useless cup before throwing its contents into the drain behind him. Akechi’s breath hitched, almost as if he were about to protest--to withdraw himself from staying any longer--but it seemed that he just gave in. 

“Very well. I appreciate the kindness.” 

Akira smiled.

“It’s no problem,” he stole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! school ate my ass, and my internet has been fucked over. in fact, i'm currently posting this *in* school, rip. anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter, and i hope to get a new one out faster than this one! owo


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